


Sam Wilson and the Wonder Boys

by buckybarnes19



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A couple casual mentionings of diabetes that may offend some people, Alcohol, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, More sugar than a person could ever need WHY bucky, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnes19/pseuds/buckybarnes19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sam came into the kitchen, eyes half closed, still somewhat asleep, and fully determined to ignore whatever nonsense was going on around him. Sleepovers with the wonder boys were always fraught with some kind of bullshit or other. He was never in the mood for it.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Wilson and the Wonder Boys

Sam came into the kitchen, eyes half closed, still somewhat asleep, and fully determined to ignore whatever nonsense was going on around him. Sleepovers with the wonder boys were always fraught with some kind of bullshit or other. He was never in the mood for it.

Today seemed like a moderately normal day but Sam learned a long time ago that ‘moderately normal’ was a different name for ‘strange’ and that strangeness went up and down on a scale that started at weird and ended at bat–shit crazy. This was maybe a three. The levels of ridiculous always went up.

Steve was alone in the kitchen with a jug of what could only be described as mulch in front of him. It was green and gooey and mysterious and Sam wanted no part of it. He called it a health shake. Sam called it compost.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asked without looking up. He was reading the paper. There was a half-healed gash over his left eye.

Sam stopped with his hand on the refrigerator door, looked up at the ceiling, and let out a loud sigh. Steve glanced up from the paper to see him shaking his head. “With super soldier dick rubbed all over me.”

“Yeah, Bucky likes to sleep in the nude. Sometimes in the bathtub. Sometimes nude in the bathtub.”

Sam moved to the table, put his hands on the back of a chair, and looked solemnly at Steve. “You could have warned me, that’s all I’m saying.”

Steve sipped his health shake, taking this far too casually for Sam’s liking. He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Kind of a compliment, really. He only cuddles with people he feels comfortable with.”

“That’s fine. Cuddling I can handle. It’s the nudity and waking up with a dick wedged in between my legs that puts me off a bit. And I was laying on the couch so it’s not like there was a lot of room. Big asshole on top of me, could barely breathe...” He pulled the chair out and sat down with a grumpy sigh.

Steve laughed and put the paper down. “You like grape juice? It’s Bucky’s favourite so if you want some you better get it now.”

On cue Bucky walked into the room smiling to himself and looking like he’d had a wonderful night of sleep. Sam glared at him. Bucky opened the ‘fridge, took out the juice, and started drinking it straight from the carton, and then sat with them at the table with the juice held possessively in the crook of his left arm.

“Too late,” Steve said to Sam with a smile and a too–bad shrug. Sam was too used to this shit by now to care.

“Are there pancakes?” Bucky asked hopefully. Once upon a time he’d been a good cook (as far as cookery went when everything you ate was boiled) but now Bucky seemed perfectly content to let anyone else cook for him, especially anything drowning in syrup and sugar and fat. Most of the time his waffles had more Cool Whip than waffle.

“You know how to make them,” Sam said, rubbing his tired eyes. He paused to glare at Bucky. “Nice pants,” he said. “Why don’t you wear them all the time?”

Bucky looked at him innocently. “What?”

“I’m talking about you laying on top of me buck naked, that’s what.”

Bucky sipped the juice and then set it down slowly, looking Sam solemnly in the eye he said, “They don’t call me Bucky for nothing.”

Steve laughed and threw the newspaper on the table, and then rose, moving pots and pans around to make breakfast for the three of them. Once his back was turned Bucky slid into his seat, opened the window, picked up Steve’s compost shake and poured it out onto the street below without batting an eye. Sam was too tired to stop him. Besides, that ‘shake’ was a crime against nature.

Sam leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, content to catch up on whatever sleep he could, until the uncomfortable feeling of being watched came over him and he cracked open an eyelid. Staying at Bucky’s house meant spending time with a paranoid veteran dealing with PTSD, among other things. Bucky was staring at him suspiciously, as though he were secreting a bomb somewhere between his tank top and track pants. Sam closed his eye, used to this. He put up with it for a few minutes before sighing and looking at Bucky. “Why don’t you help Steve?”

Bucky glanced at Steve and then back, considering.

“You can set out the chocolate chips and the whipped cream and syrup and if you sneak a taste I won’t tell anybody.” Often Sam was the disciplinarian but he was too tired to stop Bucky from any sort of shenanigans. Besides, dick placement aside, he was a generally good guy and it wasn’t his fault all that shit with Hydra happened to him.

Bucky smiled a little at Sam and then slid out of his seat and noiselessly opened the cupboard where the syrup was kept. Only pure Quebec maple syrup for Bucky. Try to slip him some of that table syrup and he would raise hell. Sam once saw him nearly pull a gun on someone over it and the only way they’d managed to get out of that one was some quick thinking from Sam, altering some video footage, followed by a subdued getaway. Sam would swear up and down that incident had aged him by at least a decade.

When the three of them were seated around the table again, a plate of half-burned pancakes in the middle surrounded by smaller bowls of diabetic indicators, Sam decided to wake up and try and choke down what Steve called a pancake. He’d never had Mama Wilson’s pancakes. One day Sam would have to take them to visit his family, when they promised to be sane and well-behaved. _So never_ , he thought to himself. He smeared some butter and sprinkled some chocolate chips on his pancake to dull the taste. Burnt _and_ undercooked. Way to go Steve, but he kept his opinion to himself while watching Bucky happily shovel mouthfuls as if it were the last thing he might ever eat.

“What are you doing today, Sam?” Steve asked. He reached for his drink, then picked up the empty cup with a frown. His eyes moved over to Bucky, who pleasantly ignored him. “We talked about this,” Steve said.

“Yeah, we did. That beverage, as you call it, is disgusting and offensive.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It has everything my body needs and it’s great after a run.”

Sam wished he could run away from this conversation. “You two fight like an old married couple.”

Steve gave Bucky a dirty look and removed himself from the growing argument. “We’re going to the movies. Want to come?”

“Which one?”

“Some Disney flick, I dunno. Bucky picked it.”

Bucky would pick Disney. Anything with bright colours and woodland animals and he would sit in front of it for hours. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was one of the ranking assassins in the world, but that was Bucky all over. Half fluffy Disney cuddle, half blood-soaked gun-toting maniac. Balance was the key to a happy life.

“I’m going to pass,” Sam said.

“Natasha is coming,” Steve said, and put the last piece of pancake in his mouth.

“Then I’m definitely going to pass.” Sam set his fork down, unable to eat any more of Steve’s terrible cooking. One day he would have to give him a real lesson. “ I have a couple errands to run today-”

“What kind of errands?” Bucky asked, the fork halfway to his mouth and dripping syrup. A lone red gummy bear made a slow dive off the fork and landed with a small _thunk_ in a mess of syrupy sprinkles. Sam cringed and vowed to eat something green as soon as he left.

“My mom’s birthday is coming up soon, I want to get her a really nice present.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened. “Can I come?”

Steve shot him a dirty look. “You insisted on this movie.”

Bucky shrugged at Steve while staring evenly at Sam. “I wanna go with Sam. You and Nat can still go. Or not. It’s not like you really want to see it anyway.”

Steve sighed but gave up without an argument while Sam considered whether or not he wanted Bucky tagging along after him. Like Steve, he gave up without an argument. “As long as you behave.”

“I always behave,” Bucky said, and as if proving a point he rose and collected all their plates, rinsed them off, put them in the dishwasher, and then stood leaning on the counter and looking at Sam.

“All right. Give me a few minutes to shower and get dressed and I’ll be ready.”

...

Sam’s first stop was the liquor store. If he was going to spend any more time with the wonder twins he was going to need the promise of a strong drink at the end of the day to keep him going. He expressly forbade Bucky from buying anything and Bucky stopped with his hand on a bottle of strawberry vodka, giving Sam a resentful look, but he obeyed and slunk out of the store behind Sam.

“What are you buying for your mother?” Bucky asked as they strolled through the mall. He pulled a lollipop from his pocket, ripped off the wrapper, and stuck it in his mouth. Sam didn’t know how he could stand to eat that much sugar but he suspected it had to do with a higher metabolism. He didn’t want to think too much about it, to be honest.

“I dunno. Maybe jewellery?” he said as they passed by a store whose wares sparkled like thousands of stars.

Bucky pulled the lollipop out of his mouth with a horrible sucking sound. “Boring.”

“Maybe Steve could draw her a picture,” Sam said.

Bucky shook his head. “He’s going to Sokovia this weekend. Peacekeeping mission.”

“You going?” Sam asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Not really my thing.”

“True. Ok, how about I get my mom a...” He searched his brain for an idea while his eyes scoped out the stores around them. “She’s in her sixties, what does a woman in her sixties even need?”

“Nothing. Get her something she wants.”

Sam was a sensitive, compassionate man. He knew that. But he was a shitty gift-giver. He knew that too.

“Flowers?”

“Candy?” Bucky said a little hopefully.

“She’s diabetic,” Sam said. “And you don’t need any more candy,” he added sternly. Bucky ignored him but gave the candy store a pained look as they passed.

“What about arts and crafts?” Bucky suggested.

“Macaroni art for my mom? I’m about thirty years too old for that.” He dropped onto a bench with a heavy sigh and watched as a bunch of tourists passed. Beside him Bucky watched them with narrowed eyes and the effect would have been frightening if not for the lollipop stick poking out of his mouth.

“What did you used to get your mom?” Sam asked.

“During the Great Depression when no one anywhere had food let alone money?” Bucky said, finally taking his eyes off the tourists to look at Sam.

“Point made,” Sam said, annoyed. “But you had to do something for your mom.”

Bucky shrugged. “Usually a nice dinner, flowers, try to make her feel special...”

“Ha! Got it! I’m going to make her a fancy dinner. She’s always cooking, she’ll enjoy a nice dinner she didn’t have to cook. C’mon, we’ll go to the bookstore and have a look at the cookbooks.”

“Ooh, nice,” Bucky said, getting to his feet. He loved the book store. Once there the two of them split up with an agreement to meet up outside if they couldn’t find each other. Sam went straight to the cooking section and perused, looking for the perfect recipe for him mother. Beef wellington? Or maybe a ragout? Fish?

“Sam, check this out.”

He glanced up to see Bucky approaching with an armload of books and he frowned slightly. Bucky set them on a nearby table, picked up the top one, and held it up for Sam to see. “‘ _Who shot Kennedy? The Mystery Explained_ ’.”

Bucky flipped the book around and stared at the cover, and then looked at Sam. “Am I supposed to feel guilty about this?”

“Probably at least a little,” Sam said.

Bucky looked back at the cover for a while and then shrugged. “Hmm,” he said, and scooped up his books and walked away.

Sam sighed and shrugged. Sometimes he wondered what he was supposed to do with this kid.

...

Back at Cuckoo Headquarters, Sam packed his bag and slung it over his shoulder with a sigh. He was tired and ready to go home and recover from a weekend spent chasing the wonder boys around. Steve was on the phone in the other room talking to Fury about the upcoming trip to Sokovia and necessary defence precautions. As for Bucky, he disappeared into his room right after coming home and hadn’t emerged since. Sam was used to this from both of them by now and didn’t mind sneaking out quietly. He went to the front door and opened it quietly. As soon as he turned the lock he heard Bucky upstairs bound out of his room and then down the stairs like a big, dangerous dog.

“Don’t go yet. I have something. It’s a present for your mom.”

Sam looked at him suspiciously. He’d seen Bucky’s presents before and they could range from dangerous to offensive to dangerous and offensive.

Bucky pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Sam, who thanked him, smiled, and slipped it into his pocket without looking at it to preserve Bucky’s feelings in case he needed to throw the present away. Bucky smiled a little and saw Sam out the door, closing and carefully locking it behind him. Sensing Bucky’s eyes on him he waited until he was away from the house before taking the paper out of his pocket.

Scrawled in messy writing was a short note:

_Mrs. Wilson,_

_Happy birthday._  
_I promise to keep Sam safe so you don’t have to worry about him as much._

_Bucky._

Sam stopped, took a deep breath while staring at the messy writing in front of him. After a while he folded the paper and put it carefully back in his pocket.


End file.
